Impact

by. Misery's-Toll

A/N: This is my alternate version of season 4 of Nikita. I made the outline of this story in the week following after season 3 ended, and have been working on it here and there for the better part of three years. I'll declare right now that any similarities between this fanfiction and the real season 4 are purely coincidental. This being said, I have about 11,000 words written at this point. Chapters will be semi-short, only so that I can update more frequently. Expect an update every other Thursday.

Pairings: Michael/Nikita, Alex/Sam, and Sonya/Birkhoff. Ryan's love interest is a secret for now.

Song Inspiration: "Harper Lee" by Little Green Cars

Alex

Queens, New York - 7: 45 pm

Alex took the rear staircase up. She'd been waiting for the elevator a good four minutes, but it only groaned and rattled, never quite making it the full way down.

The clack of her heels echoed loudly off the concrete walls, expensive shoes out of place in a room decorated only with the swirls of spray-painted gang signs. It could almost be construed as abstract art, if she squinted a little. Such a thing was to be expected from dirt-cheap dives like this one.

The scribbled mural ended abruptly at the top of the stairs. The third-story hallway was only dimly lit, but Alex could see how that might serve as an advantage to anyone who didn't want to be recognized upon first glance. Door 322 easily blended in to the nondescript corridor, and she could have walked straight past it had she not been searching so intently.

She tapped the brass knocker against the wood three times and waited patiently for a response from within. While there was neither a guarantee that the occupant was home or would answer even if he was, Alex was feeling optimistic.

She caught a flicker of movement through the warped glass of the peephole, and then she heard the clatter of locks and deadbolts unfastening in rapid succession. The door swung open, and Michael's weary face appeared in the shadows of the unlit apartment.

"Hey," Alex greeted warmly, unable to temper the smile that pulled at her cheeks. She hadn't anticipated the surge of fondness that would come with seeing him for the first time in so long.

Michael pursed his lips, clearly not as enthused by being tracked down. "So, you found me."

"Don't sound so excited," she retorted, her grin slightly fading. "Are you gonna let me in or what?"

He gave a few moments to consider it, as though slamming the door in her face were an actual option. Finally, as if it caused him great pain, he pushed the door aside and walked back into the apartment, not stopping to see if she would follow. Alex bristled a little, but tried not to hold his unfriendly behavior against him.

Michael had never been anything close to sloppy when they were all shacking up together at Home Quarters, so it came as a surprise when she discovered toppled beer cans and old Chinese take-out containers littering the sparse furniture like a moldy buffet. Everything he owned looked like it may have been left by the previous owners, or stolen from someone's curb on garbage day. Nothing particularly seemed deserving of a pride of ownership.

When she caught up to him in the kitchenette, Michael was openly staring, waiting for her reaction to his new self. She tried not to look too disappointed, but she could tell she was failing by the way the corners of his lips fell.

He teetered awkwardly in the middle of the room, as if unsure of how to proceed.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he eventually asked, his voice even rougher than usual. He scratched at the back of his neck with obvious self-consciousness and gestured toward the fridge. "I think I've got some beer... But, ah—you don't drink, do you?"

Alex surveyed the empty cans lying around and said with a small amount of bitterness, "Whatever you have is fine," even though it was not him she was angry with.

Michael cleared his throat and rummaged through the refrigerator while Alex pulled herself up to perch upon a clear patch of counter space. She managed an oblique glance past his shoulder and nearly scoffed at the single six-pack and the lone bottle of yellow mustard inside.

He popped the tab on a beer and handed it to her, opening another for himself. She took a single sip for the sake of politeness, and then set it aside. It was true, she was paranoid of alcohol's addictive properties, and beer tasted like piss.

The obvious question hung thick in the air, waiting to be acknowledged and she waited for him to ask. It was only after several moments of uncomfortable silence that Alex considered maybe he refrained because it would be too difficult to hear the answer.

"No," she said quietly, though it seemed very loud in the silent room, "Nothing yet."

Michael nodded and knocked back a large swallow of the liquid comfort in his hands, visibly depressed by the news. He glared down at the can for a prolonged moment, thinking heavily on what this lack of progress meant.

"If it's not that, then you must need my help for something," he speculated with disdain, "So what is it?"

In the uneven light that streamed through the blinds, Michael looked like a disaster. His hair hung in greasy tendrils, his beard growing unkempt. If Alex had to guess, he probably hadn't showered in days and was substituting proper meals for beer.

Alex sighed, again disappointed by the impact of what had transpired a few months back. The frown seemed a permanent fixture on Michael's otherwise handsome face. It reminded her of when she'd first met him, when he was always so serious, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"I don't have an ulterior motive, Michael," she said kindly, angling her face so he might look her in the eye. "I just wanted to see you again."

His snort following her words was one of self-deprecation, and he leaned back against the refrigerator in a somewhat more relaxed position. His eyes finally slid up to meet hers and he said with some abashment, "Well...it's good to see you again. You look good."

Alex brushed her hands over a crease in her couture skirt and offered a small smile, pleased that his hostility was waning. "Thanks," she said, and then added more hesitantly, "You look terrible."

He grimaced, taking another swig of his beer to wash away the insult. "Yeah, well. It hasn't been a great few months."

The nostalgia in the air was palpable, the memories culminating between them left unspoken. Standing across from one another in the cramped kitchenette, it almost felt like no time had passed at all. Too much and so little had happened since Nikita left, but it was enough to force Alex to explain.

"It screws up my insides just thinking about it," she said, her voice wavering, "Ryan and Sonya...even Birkhoff. They don't understand—she was just a friend to them. But I feel like there's a part of me that will never heal after what she did. I understand why she ran away, but I just feel so betrayed..."

Michael rubbed at his beard, replying unsurely, "And you thought I would understand."

Alex nodded. How could he not? That was why he was living in this self-imposed seclusion after all, wasn't it?

"I think about it every single day...what I could have done differently," he said slowly, fiddling with the can in his hands absentmindedly, "Then I realized there's nothing I could change, because I'm not the one who did anything. It wasn't my choice to make."

"What would you do if you saw her again?" Alex prompted, leaning in.

He almost smiled, trapped in a fantasy or an idea. "Honestly?" he asked. "I'm not sure if I'd kiss her or kill her."

Silence trickled in with the weight of his comment, their insides filling with cold black regret. Alex nodded, sagging against the tile backsplash and whispered, "Yeah. Me too."

Michael slammed the can on the counter, his face screwing up with frustration. "ShadowNet hasn't found anything! Not a single lead to go on, not a single trace of her!"

Alex hesitated, and slowly reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. He flinched at her touch, as if unused to physical comfort after spending so much time alone.

"Maybe that's a good thing, Michael," she offered with flimsy hope, "It means she's safe."

He chuckled spitefully. "Or maybe she's dead, and we'll never even know."

Alex pulled her hand away, busying herself by smoothing it across another imaginary crease in her dress as she blinked back tears. "I have to believe we'll find her alive. Otherwise what am I fighting for?"

It was nearing midnight when Alex checked the time on her phone. No longer was the sun bleeding through Michael's filmy windows, overlooking an unimpressive view of grey cement and a rotting wood fence. All Alex could see was her own bleary reflection. She was surprised by how quickly the time had passed once they started spilling their guts out.

"You can spend the night if you want," Michael offered, finally looking a bit more like himself, "It's late. I can take the couch."

Alex eyeballed the sunken sofa, resembling a compost heap more than a piece of furniture. "Is there a couch under there?" she asked with a laugh.

Michael gave her one of his trademark crooked smiles in response, and the familiarity of it was almost too painful for her to bear. She took a deep, discreet breath, trying to get her whirlwind of emotions under control, tilting her head so a curtain of hair would hide her belying expression.

"You'll visit again soon?" he asked, sounding artificially detached from the question, like he was trying too hard not to appear hopeful.

Alex plastered a grin on her face, careful to remain encouraging, and teased him, "I knew you missed me."

Michael rolled his eyes in good humor and replied, "It must have been your overwhelming humility that got to me."

They stood there silently in the wake of their banter, just looking at each other and smiling fondly. Alex remembered something Michael had said to her before, when they had been desperately searching for a cure to the nanobots in his bloodstream. If this goes bad...make her understand that her family, the one she's built, is there for her.

She had made a promise to him that she would, yet the woman he'd been determined to protect had flown the coop. Alex decided to make it her new goal to be Michael's family. Maybe it was something she had learned from her runaway mentor, but Alex couldn't bear to let a man in need go unheard; not if there was something she could do to help.

They found themselves at his door, unfastening his ridiculous assortment of locks and bidding each other farewell.

"I will visit," she vowed, "I have a conference in D.C., but I should be back before the end of the month."

Michael laid a tentative hand on her arm, squeezing it in a familial way. Alex decided to one-up him and stood on her toes, pressing a chaste kiss to his scraggly mess of a beard.

When she pulled away, she laughed, "You should shave that."

"I know," he replied, blushing.

At that moment, his neighbor's door slammed open, an irate man storming out.

"You stupid bitch!" the man shouted, his towering figure made even more menacing by the shadows. "You wanted me gone? Well, guess what? I'm leaving!"

A petite woman appeared in the doorway, her pale face streaked with tears. She screamed back, oblivious to Alex and Michael looking on, "Fine! Get out of here, you asshole!"

The man waved her off dismissively and stalked down the corridor, disappearing down the column of stairs. The young woman lingered in the hallway, sniffling and rubbing at a blooming bruise on her cheek until Michael cleared his throat.

"Oh," the woman started, and tried hastily to wipe away her tears. "I'm sorry, David. Did we wake you?"

Michael shook his head, quick to reassure her. "No, I was just saying goodbye to my..." he floundered for a moment, gesturing at Alex beside him.

"Niece," Alex offered, shooting him an amused look. Then she outstretched her hand and, catching on to Michael's use of an alias, added, "I'm Samantha."

"Denise," the woman replied, and shook Alex's hand. "It's funny, I don't think David's ever had a visitor before."

Alex smiled and patted Michael on the shoulder. "Well, that's about to change," she said, smiling, "It was nice meeting you Denise, but I have to get home. I'll see you soon, David."

Michael nodded, looking slightly more rejuvenated, and quietly said goodnight.

Walking back to her car, Alex couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Seeing Michael clam up like that in the face of a pretty girl made her wonder if maybe he had a chance at normalcy after all. He always had been attracted to women he thought he could fix, and she knew he wouldn't allow anyone to lay another fist on his neighbor.

Still, even if it was healthier for them all to move forward, she couldn't help but hope that Michael and Nikita's love story wasn't over.

A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this prologue. I know it was really dialogue heavy, and I have to admit that a lot of my writing is like that. However, because this is a Nikita fanfiction, there will be some espionage and fist-fighting. If you need an immediate fist-fighing fix, you can read the second one-shot in my series Moments!

Please send me a review and let me know what you think! I worked hard on this story, so any compliments or criticisms are desired.

-MT